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. ” He glanced over at her cockeyed, and then returned his gaze to the road. The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. ’ She shook her head sadly. Her mouth was an effective tourniquet. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that.
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