272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. She had looked forward to an explanation. Then she sang. She looked at him as he fingered a small switch on the side of the helicopter’s door. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. . The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. "Here I am, Captain," cried a voice from without. “To the view that all women ought to have votes whether they like it or not. I followed you home on the train.
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