He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. I thought you understood. One who—who—tres. The envelope might contain only a request as to what he wanted done with the manuscripts. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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