272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Wood, I desire you'll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible. I’ll need you to go back to the barracks and fetch more men up to town. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming.
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