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Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. ’ She frowned suddenly. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. Always at your service. “I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. " "We'll be waiting for you. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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