‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. Sir John waved her back. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. “Just hope that the ground doesn’t shift and unearth them. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible.
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