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“Well, you know. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. 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. Anyone would be intrigued. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help.
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