’ Still the girl said nothing. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. There must be something, one feels, in ideas that achieve persistently a successful resurrection. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard.
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