“Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. ’ It’s a duplicate of the French one. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. At last—I told a story. He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free.
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