You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. 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. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. . ‘I don’t think you need do that, Melusine—if I may call you so. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky.
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