"What's the matter?" he cried. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Michelle winked at her and left to join the gathering of seats in the center of the theater. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. I said intensity of perception. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. It’s just like your Splendid Pride to do it.
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