272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "She has," rejoined Sheppard. Suddenly a half stifled exclamation broke from Anna’s lips. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. . ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them. “I don’t know why. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major.
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