'—'They can't,' says I. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “I think,” she said, “that I would rather not have anything to say about that man. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time.
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