272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. It is a true saying that in the mountains there is peace. " "I am almost afraid to utter it," said Kneebone; "but Thames Darrell is murdered. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Folks don’t like ’em. This she would not endure. "He hash a long journey before him—ha! ha!" "Peace!" cried Jonathan. But on this matter my mind is quite made up. “Impossible to say,” he answered.
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