272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. . For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance.
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