272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Do you know, I envy you. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. “Before I heard much Wagnerian music I heard enthusiastic descriptions of it from a mistress I didn’t like at school.
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