Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. “I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. " "Here it is," replied Edgeworth Bess. “I want,” he said, with a white hand outstretched, “to take you out to tea.
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