" "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. ” The men at the reporter’s table lifted their eyebrows, smiled faintly, and leaned back to watch how she took her scolding. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. " "But warn the aunt, prepare her, if she lives.
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