The Iron Bar. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. Roof open —like a Noah’s Ark. You used to beg me for hours at a time to give it all up, never to go near the ‘Ambassador’s’ again.
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