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. I didn’t understand. “Have you ever been to the opera, Ann Veronica?” said Ramage. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. There it is—against you. ‘As for your dagger—’ She held out her hand palm up, as if she expected him to give her the weapon. . ” “Come on! Why not?” “So I can spend more time with you, of course. The Ragged Edge. His voice had broken.
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