” Michelle relayed the information as if she had been there, though she had not. 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. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. She could no longer wait. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit.
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