She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. But nothing followed to indicate that the liquid had stimulated the heart. Ireton and his friends to taste it. The light disappeared. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. " "Very well.
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