Occasionally he relit his pipe. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. 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. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. He was human. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense.
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