272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. " "Stand off, Poll," rejoined the woollen-draper; "I don't want to hurt you. He then made off. "Now, step this way, Mr. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you.
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