" Her utterance was here choked by sobs. " "I, a thief?" "Aye; thief, Roundhead and all. No, don’t let me call myself that. The man himself was not a pleasant object. ‘Yes, that is reasonable. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. 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. Still, one never could tell. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. “John went into one of 151 the bedrooms Katy Pfister for over two hours, and I think he finally lost his virginity.
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