. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. “He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. She turned with an effort.
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