“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. What news. You'll find me at supper. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. . 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. “But, you see, appearances are very much against me. “I do hope you will see how things are, and not be offended with me or frightfully shocked and distressed by what I have done. Ah, no, I have it wrong. I cannot work, I cannot teach. . How will I protect myself if you do not?’ ‘If you will only confide in me, I will be happy to protect you,’ Gerald said cheerfully.
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