"Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. . Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. “Experte credo. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. He smothered it down with such a good will that the reaction set his heart to pounding. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. ‘I feared as much. Then she stepped back into the empty room and stood for a moment looking down upon the scattered fragments of her last canvas. Morals only begin when that is settled. . “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes.
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