“I wonder if you will?” “Let me say one thing,” he said. 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. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. They sucked face and felt each other up, or something. Books; an inexplicable hunger to be satisfied. E.
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