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“Well, no,” she answered. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. ’ ‘Lady Bicknacre too,’ said Lucilla, a delight in her voice that grated on Melusine. " "That's right, Captain," cried Blueskin. " "So she may," returned Jack, brightening up; "it's a good idea. 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. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered.
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