During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years. But this made the chase all the more exciting. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. She did not twitch. 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. She had tried to shift the subject of conversation away from herself and was even managing successfully until Chen the father addressed her. Here is one verse. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. . ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning.
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