Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. “I will not intrude upon you further. She had been careless. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. But to draw the attention of the milice, no, that is not at all desirable.
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