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. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. Melusine soon found herself seated at a table, with a dirty piece of paper in front of her, and a badly mended pen between her fingers. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. " "Lord!—think of having sharks for neighbours? Every morning I'll take a dip into the lagoon.
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