A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. He moaned in excitement as his lips wrapped around the peak of her right breast.
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