White. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. You wouldn't rob Mr. END OF THE SECOND EPOCH. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. Never before had he seen a man like Enschede nor heard a voice like Ruth's. Mother had met with him two years before to begin the process of finding a match. ” She spat in his face.
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