272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “Have you no understanding of your own advanced history classes? You want to look like a brainwashed Nazi anti-Semite?” Lucy became angry, her nostrils flaring. Mr. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said.
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