John spent the first weeks of summer backpacking in Europe, and she heard occasional news from Michelle of his whereabouts. Without Sheila, the denizens of the neighborhood might forget they had the ability to communicate with each other. 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. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. Stanley, “Mr. Like stealing.
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