272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Lucy stood in front of the piano. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. "Hell's curses!" roared Jonathan. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face.
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