. 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. It'll be in your way. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. It was bad luck to go to Canongate. In vain Wood protested his innocence. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions.
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