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It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. “This wonderful affection of yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?” He hesitated. He seemed to have shrunken in his seat. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. 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. ” “It gives in a nutshell the miracle of art and the imagination.
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