272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The reply he received this time put him into a state of continuous bewilderment. ” “Oh. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. “Time for my Patience,” she said. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. They laughed and talked and stared about them. It was Ennison, who loomed up through the shadows. I was not even sure whether it was loaded.
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