She was too late. ” Tears flowed down her face. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. 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. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. It was Ennison who for the rest of his visit was quiet and subdued. They simply understood there was a greater need to get over the past than to talk about it.
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