The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. 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. "Auntie?" he cried. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. That’s got his nerves to rags. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. But I expect him back every minute. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. E. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity.
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