If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth. Don't be frightened of her. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer. They WERE weird.
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