‘Yes, that is what the nuns they said of me. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. She was now permitted freely to study the face. There was a mad musician, seemingly rapt in admiration of the notes he was extracting from a child's violin. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street.
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