I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. ‘I do not see at all. “I do love you. 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. “Okay. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain.
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