272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ” Well, it was beyond dispute that these words did convey a certain quality of the Movements in general amid which Miss Miniver disported herself. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. .
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