’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. Lucy saw it happen as if in slow motion. As this seemed insufficient, after a lapse of five minutes, he added another hundred weight. “Sure. Nice, of course. You cannot—shall not retreat. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose.
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