272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "Put about, waterman, for God's sake!" cried Wood, whose humanity got the better of every personal consideration; "some one is overboard. ” “I don’t care. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. ‘I find you excessively rude, both of you,’ said the lady crossly.
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