“Michelle, the only reason I ever started to behave or dress differently was to please that boy. B. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. “Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. “My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued.
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