272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. This manoeuvre was so suddenly executed that it took Abraham completely by surprise. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. The bridge was open. Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. ” “She didn’t say she’d met any one. “She means to go.
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