Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. I was resolved to see you. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. She shrank from him as he gripped her hand more forcibly. You don’t have to live forever to understand that. I found him once in my rooms, and I believe that he had a key to my front door. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad. ‘It is what my father intended.
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