Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. ’ ‘Yes, but how are you going to find her?’ ‘I will ask—’ She broke off. 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. John picked it up and put it in her hands. “It was poison—why not?” she answered.
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