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. Lucy could see her striding down a Parisian catwalk quite easily. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. "Promise me that.
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