In the middle there was a gate. Escape was now impossible. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. . "Ruth?" he called. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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