“You see, Vee,” said Mrs. “It’s okay. I am sorry that I do not know any one in London. ” She said. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. 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. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. Besides, it is all reversed now, you know. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “I say, Vee. “Okay, Mom. CHAPTER IV.
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