“Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. 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. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness.
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