"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. 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. "Come along, Blueskin. See paragraph 1. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out.
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