And I’m off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I’ll thank the Lord for it. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. " "I don't wonder at it," rejoined Gay. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. I’m so glad you’re not angry.
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