272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Taber?" He wondered if this crystal being was interested in that blundering fool who had gone recklessly into the city. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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