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’ ‘But she must have known I’d longed to hear of you. I did think it could be done. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He wouldn’t like it if people did it to him. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. She was lovely, painted like the porcelain doll he had always wanted her to be.
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