She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook. "That is very kind of you, but I am on my way to America. The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. " "But that's the point—I don't know. “Sir John is not at all that sort. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired.
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