" "Then you are hurt," cried the carpenter in alarm. They are the only happy women in the Orient. I've got an address here. . ’ For my own part I go about loving. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. A single glance served to show the thief-taker how matters stood. I will take her away and make her serve me as my wife. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. The curtain tinkled as her head brushed it, but he neither saw nor heard. . White gasped, and then stiffened. 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.
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