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. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. I was just like a sort of dummy that does things as it is told—that is to say, as the strings are pulled.
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