To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. Ennison paused by the little gate. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. “Well——” She stopped short. " She laughed; and it was pleasant laughter in his ears. “I am sure that you are. ” Her answer was terse. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. 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.
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