272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. “I never wanted to kick any one so much in my life as that second fellow. In addition to my public salary I have a certain private property and further expectations through my aunt, so that I can offer you a life of wide and generous refinement, travel, books, discussion, and easy relations with a circle of clever and brilliant and thoughtful people with whom my literary work has brought me into contact, and of which, seeing me only as you have done alone in Morningside Park, you can have no idea. "Thanks. ‘Very useful, of course. Gerald grinned. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. Not with the unavoidable explanations, and the need to secrete the sword and hide it before returning the priest’s horse to its stable—which had been her excuse for running from Martha’s protestations. She had always loved babies, like you! We ran away to the Barbars, back then, the land of the barbarian North. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. When he returned from pissing, he sat down with her. You have betrayed me. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. I believe it amused him.
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