“Great dears!” said Capes, as the vehicle passed out of sight. 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. Predictably, Charvill turned on him. She had refused to eat human beings when she had first learned her fate. But as the students sat about Miss Garvice’s tea-pot and drank tea or smoked cigarettes, the talk got away from Capes. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. And this is not France, you understand. I want to go on with my University work under proper conditions, now that I’ve done the Intermediate. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other.
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