Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. 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. CHAPTER I. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. You're in luck to-night, widow. ” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. Consider you’ve got resources deposited with me. "I understand, Sir," replied Davies, drawing a little aside. \" She said. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover.
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