272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. . ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in a tone that betrayed hot the slightest discomposure. He took her there on the cold, dirty floor, his nails digging into her back, his teeth sinking into her breasts. It was most amusing.
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