The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “You do not even know what you are talking about. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle.
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