“He’s got almost to like it. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. I am not a madman, or a pauper, or even an unreasonable person.
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