272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Wood fancied he recognised. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. The man asked twelve guineas, but after a little bargaining, he came down to ten. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson.
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