I shall want you. 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. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. We are nuns. Voilà tout. Leave the rest to me. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere.
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