"I was merely about to observe that I am in possession of her secret. E. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose. 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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