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I wonder if I should have locked you up if I’d been your father. 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. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof.
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