272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. "His shin may need rubbing. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. I could never make you understand. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes.
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