Over one of the pinnacles of the tower a speck of pallid light marked the position of the moon, then newly born and newly risen. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. " "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. Sheppard, fixing her glazing eyes upon him. “If I do,” he said. .
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