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 was a habit of his to talk to himself. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. They were those of the Irish watchman. Little woman, you have been brave enough before. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite.
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