272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. It's a mighty quare 'un, though. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. Do you know what Spurlock has done?" "Mr. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck. The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her.
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