” “I will see that he gets it immediately on his return,” the lady promised. Annabel thought, and thought again. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble.
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