272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. " "I am not unprotected," rejoined the poor woman; "there's some one at the window. ” The wedding-breakfast was for Ann Veronica a spectacle of the unreal consuming the real; she liked that part very well, until she was carelessly served against her expressed wishes with mayonnaise. “You are one of those who must know all about it. I've been hunting for this particular job for a thousand years!" She smiled a little sadly over this fine enthusiasm; for in her wisdom she had a clear perception where it would eventually end—in the veranda chair. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. She had found him! Excitement welled. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter.
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