“Oh! I wish,” she said, “that people thought alike about these things. But her heart kept on sinking. 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. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air.
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