‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. No one seeing you together could doubt that she is your granddaughter. There is no need of your friend to kill you, imbecile, because I shall do so this minute. “I heard that she had chucked her show at the French places and gone in for a reform all round. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. ‘You should not kiss me at all, and undoubtedly I should kill you. The vicomte has, he say, enough femmes in his hands. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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