272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. G. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said. \"I guess so. It’s a world of dirt and skin diseases and parasites.
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