” Annabel looked intently into her glass. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. She set her fingers in the hair and tugged, drawing him to a sitting posture and stooping so that her eyes would be on the level with his when he awoke. “A most wonderful likeness, too. He saluted awkwardly. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal.
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