Mrs. ‘I assure you it was mutual. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. ‘She’s perfectly right. 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. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. She spoke slowly. “They would spoil every chance.
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