Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. 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. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. But, you see, I’m smirched. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. Spurling, drily.
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