“Ciao. . ‘Not where we’re going. Mr. ” He was strangely silent. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me. 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 don’t know.
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