272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Occasionally he revealed tidbits about his past after a good kill. “Not only that,” he answered. I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. Somehow logic could not explain her. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. It always comes out sooner or later. She was unusually pale, and her eyes were brilliant. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. Even the children jeer. Afterwards, it may be different.
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