’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. " "Is that all!" retorted Jonathan. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She and I were very close.
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