He was there concealed, waiting her return. He did not look up, so he did not know that in her other hand she held a glass of wine. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. 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. Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief in the neighborhood, no one wanted to see how those kids would grow up. “Really?” “Would not let it go.
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