Then she had a baby and became as old as any really grown-up person, or older, and very dull. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. He gripped the window-sill behind him. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love.
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