Lucy trudged upstairs behind 258 him and he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about this evening. \"Lucy?\" He called her as she turned. 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. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. I tell you I’m Meysey Hill, the railway man. ” He snarled. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply.
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