"To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. E. " "With a face as square and flat as a bottle of gin. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently. “No, no,” she cried.
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