Wood. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. ‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business.
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