272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. She spoke with many other high schoolers while reveling in her new popularity. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly.
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