272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He comforted himself, however, with the certainty which he felt of capturing his prey on the Sunday. "Hell's curses!" roared Jonathan. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. Then there was also the horse. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous.
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