Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing. As though accidentally she swept her skirts from a chair close drawn to her own. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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