Chapter XXIX MONTAGUE HILL PLAYS THE GAME The man opened his eyes and looked curiously about him. 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 is very nice of you,” Anna said softly. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl.
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