272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Pipes were lighted; and Mr. Michelle and Missy chatted vigorously in the front seat, oblivious to both the world and other cars on the road. She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp, cold forehead. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. As Jonathan scarcely expected a more satisfactory result, he made no comment; but, ordering Quilt to continue his search, and not to return until he had found the fugitive, called Abraham Mendez into the house, and shut the door.
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