This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. "I couldn't bear to see you in it. I know you. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up.
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