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. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short. Supper was over. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. Then there was also the horse. “Well,” said Capes, at length, “we’ve to go down, Ann Veronica. On the fifth day he had ventured speech with her.
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