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. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. It would be very hard perhaps to make you understand just how I feel about it. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. "I would sacrifice all my fortune—all my hopes —to liberate him.
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