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In love's many mansions where likely and unlikely double-acts add their meaning to what it is to love someone, the devotion of Alfred Housman to Moses Jackson must be a high point of heroic absurdity, an unremitting, lopsided, lifelong, hopeless constancy to a decent chap who was in no need of it, temperamentally unfitted for it, and never for a moment inclined to call upon it; except in Alfred's daydreams.
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