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. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. "England or France, London or Paris, it's all one to me, so I've you to command me. "Out of the beaten track, with a real man for an employer? How would that strike you?" Interest shot into Spurlock's eyes; it spread to his wan face.
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