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“Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. She cried out with the pain of it. “I am not sure,” Anna answered. My father died a year ago, by the way. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. A bumper round, gentlemen. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted composure. I asked you to go.
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