” She laughed. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. You belong to me, and I have waited long enough. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. 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. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear.
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