272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ‘Naturally I had to come,’ confirmed the lively blonde, her eyes twinkling up at Alderley. Time enough to do so when she has her affairs settled—if she can settle them. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. Amid this portentous hush, the report of a pistol reached the carpenter's ears; and, raising his head at the sound, he beheld a sight which filled him with fresh apprehensions. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. A maidservant held the front door open. Diving towards it, he tried to press against the rivulet that was seeping from it, hampered mightily by Melusine’s fingers, which were grasping at his other hand. Then you may have a bit of a chance. This was enough for the poor widow.
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