272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "It's Mrs. Piano wire, stained with black rust from the horrible deeds she had committed. " "Well then, to change it," replied Thames, gravely, "suppose I should be obliged to leave you. I was compelled to run away. . .
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