272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. McClintock laughed as he gave the letter to Ruth. ” “How?” “It prevents our marrying. " "Anything else, Sir?" "No:—stay! you'd better not bring up any silver forks or spoons.
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