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. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. “You see, her sister is married to Ferringhall, isn’t she? and she herself must be drawing no end of a good screw here. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. You steered and I rowed stroke.
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