She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. . Morals only begin when that is settled. Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. But she veiled her feelings.
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