It was excellently done, especially as she loved good dinners. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. . . 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. To the point however.
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