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. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. A curious silence ensued. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think.
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