” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. Montressor’s guests were. 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.
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