Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. 'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. .
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