It was her story, and that of countless booksellers and booklovers the world over. Downs and her compatriots loved this little book with such an undying loyalty. I saw now, as an adult, what I had been unprepared to see as a girl. He took it from me and read it in one sitting, dashing the tears from his eyes when he was done. Philip came home a few hours later to find me sobbing into my pillow over it. Marooned at home one day with a fever and not quite up to the thundering word-craft of Wuthering Heights on my bedside table, I dipped into a paperback version of 84, Charing Cross Road that I had picked up along the way in memory of my beloved Mrs. "Frank Doel, what are you DOING over there, you are not doing ANYthing, you are just sitting AROUND.i swear i don't know how that shop keeps going." ~H.H.
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