"How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. 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. Probably something he had eaten. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. " She laughed; and it was pleasant laughter in his ears.
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