In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. ***** Coconuts grew perpetually. 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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