He would know her address to-morrow. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ‘Very well, then. So he resolved to try another tack. Yet I fancy that we who have been poor ourselves must be the best judges of the needs of the people. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory.
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