It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. He won’t be in uniform. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form.
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