When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. “I knew you would begin to see how it all falls into place together. His face will be all I need. No one would ever know what happened to him. ’ It seems that I was mistaken. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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