The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Her aunt had summoned up an altogether too vivid picture of her father as the masterful man, overbearing, emphatic, sentimental, noisy, aimless. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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