272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books. “Yeah, but I have two brothers. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. On the walls were noticeboards bearing clusters of newspaper slips, three or four big posters of monster meetings, one of which Ann Veronica had attended with Miss Miniver, and a series of announcements in purple copying-ink, and in one corner was a pile of banners. I thought my sister and her murdered husband dragged me hither, to this very room, and commanded you to slay me.
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