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 almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. ” She departed from the couch and went upstairs to find John. He whispered in her ear. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. To-morrow, when she returned to Hong-Kong, she would purchase a simple but modern dress. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. I loathe this room. ’ ‘I do not tell you why,’ the lady uttered flatly. .
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