272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He beamed as she whispered to 22 him that she had seen a table so fine or tasted such wonders. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. It's certain. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. Ali, büyük bir şehre gidip tıp fakültesine başladı. Twenty-one, twenty-two. A sea voyage under sail will be the making of him. A wedding procession turned the corner. “I SAY!” said Mr. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn.
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