About halfway across this interval, when everything seemed going well, Capes had a shock. 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. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. “You are not content then with stealing from me my name. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace.
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