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. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. I am a single man, and——” “Thank you,” she interrupted. In their opinion a hundred pounds would not repair the damage done to the prison. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. "Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person.
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