“No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. I am too weak to aid you. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. He still wore his hat, to show that the days of miracles and Christ being civil to sinners are over forever. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr.
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