She turned the television off. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. To-morrow morning I shall have made up my mind what to do. “You will have some tea?” she asked.
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