272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. It is extraordinary. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. ” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. I don't know; I really don't know," she found herself repeating. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. . Smith, he'll swing after next Old Bailey sessions. " Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. That, I think, is manifest.
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