Meanwhile, she was spirited away from John and bombarded by half-familiar people who attempted to chat with her above the roar of the crowd. 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. And the woollen-draper departed. Tears sprang to her eyes. gutenberg. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him.
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