“Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. Give me the chisel, Blueskin. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Ennison reeled, and almost fell. ” She smiled. Mac, she's the honestest human being I ever saw or heard of; and at the same time she is velvet over steel.
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