“Oh, dammit!” he remarked, “dammit!” with great bitterness as he faced it. ’ ‘Please forgive, milor’, but my wife, and even I myself, have yet very much trouble with English. “Go on!” she commanded. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He took about five minutes. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand.
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