‘She’s gone. Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Such freedoms from such people were not to be endured. Beneath that tree let us lie. " "Or the flat stones in the meadows, teeming with life underneath.
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