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. She lay still for a long time, and her mind resumed at a more tolerable pace. I hear her coming. ” “I didn’t understand—your idea of making love. I don’t know that I understand altogether. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. You're a queer lad. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior.
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