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She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. “Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. I don't know anything about you. Mark you, she wasn’t the only one. 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. " Gently she thrust Ruth aside. " "Oh!" Ruth laughed softly. Come in! Come in, do. You're an angel of goodness. “I’d never have a day of peace again, John.

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