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"Well, gentlemen," rejoined Wood, mildly; "since Mr. ” “We might even have—given it up for them!” “I wonder if we could. A town called Foster. Michelle looked like she was about to throw up herself. She put her mouth on him. Cut it as short as you can. 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. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool.
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