272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. ‘It is what my father intended. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture.
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