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. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. They were inscribed with the name RIMBAUER, EMILIO J. Annabel, I was lying.
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