It was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. 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. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. Her eyes still had the fevered glow of sickness, yet she seemed in perfect health. Every moment.
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