Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. Very good. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. .
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