She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. ' That has always haunted me. ‘Dear me. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. The one I have is a duplicate. 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. . ‘And me, I am a lady. Gay," he added, turning to the poet.
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