" "Impossible, dear Mrs. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. When Mrs. “Upon my word,” he exclaimed, “this is most extraordinary. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. 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. All of a sudden, there was movement behind him.
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