I know something about men. And then as we went down you’d try to explain. He had already spoken his mind on the folly of allowing a clearly dangerous female to escape a second time. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. 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.
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