Of you, I mean. . 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. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror. "A hundred dollars which was left from your husband's money. Figg?" asked Gay. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness.
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