272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. " Thames turned away at the question, which he felt might be construed into a reproach. And the woollen-draper departed. With this view, he descended the hill and presently found a footpath leading to the church. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. He became a little more personal and intimate. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken. . “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. I'll tote it myself.
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