A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at
night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. 272
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EPILOGUE
She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack
swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming
silver in their starkness. That's one of the troubles with young folks:
they take themselves so seriously. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. ”
“My message is urgent,” he said firmly. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. She has given herself up to social work. "
"That's right, Captain," rejoined Blueskin. Sheppard," said the carpenter, advancing to meet her, and trying to
look as cheerful and composed as he could; "what brings you to town, eh?—
Nothing amiss, I trust?"
"Nothing whatever, Sir," answered the widow.
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