She almost sprang to her feet. And every day's experience proves that I was right. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. She answered slowly. 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. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. "Off with it to the health of King James the Third, and confusion to his enemies!" "Hold!" interposed Wood; "that is treason.
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