‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. And, if I'd my own way, I'd drown 'em all like a litter o' puppies. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. But the Ramage affair needed clearing up, of course; it was a flaw upon that project.
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