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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. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. ’ Her eyes narrowed. They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. She shook her head. There he sat as before, with the heavy fetters on his limbs, and beside him sat his three companions, who had since expiated their offences on the gibbet.
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