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. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. “What was that?” she asked sharply. ‘Do not beg his pardon,’ intervened Melusine quickly, coming between them. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully.
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