” “You’ll get them,” he said. ” Sir John did not hesitate any longer. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. ” “The real, identical other,” said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her little finger. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. He paced faster, stomping around. But, indeed, he’s very human. I didn’t know. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. He kissed her again. E below.
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