"I cannot break my vow. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head. Blotted out—Love! With infinite care, through nearly a thousand pages, her father had obliterated the word Love. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates. Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. If you like books and music, we'll get along.
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