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. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. Give me the books. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. Perhaps the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. . "I don't quite understand the application. ’ ‘Yes, I know,’ Gerald put in with an irrepresssible chuckle.
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