272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. John picked it up and put it in her hands. "You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland," he said, after he had twice counted them, "or I've missed my reckoning. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. But the five per cent.
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