She began to miss him when he was gone during the day and cherish the quiet times he spent only with her. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love.
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