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OUIS LAWRENCE had not been at Bar Harbour a week before he became fully aware—if indeed there had previously been any doubt on the subject in his mind—that he was very much in love with Fanny Trehearne. It became clear to him that, although he had believed himself to be in love once or twice before then, he had been mistaken, and that he had never known until the present time exactly what love meant. He was not even sure that he was pleased with the passion, or, at least, with the form in which it attacked him. Sensitive as he was, it took him hard, as the saying is, and he felt that it had the better of him at every turn, and disposed of him in spite of himself at every hour of the day. 76