It is your own choice, isn’t it?” She nodded. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He had no ideas about daughters. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too. Hurry to me, I entreat you.
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