“I see the pointer,” she said. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. He and her father shook hands manfully. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. She peered into the darkness. It was drafty and cold most of the time, but she found that she was not nearly as sensitive to the cold as long as he was 99 there to warm her up. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. A fever of shame ran through her being. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle. " "Why didn't he arrest Mr.
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