As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. The whole affair interested him deeply. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. " "Swear it!" "I do. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. But it doesn’t alter the situation. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. 'Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord;' that's my comfort.
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