Just a formal marriage. 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. Goopes, she was sure was always high-browed and slow and Socratic. But in a moment she believed she understood. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. I mean—I mean to do what I can. His spirits revived, and encouraging himself with the idea that the present impediment, though the greatest, was the last, he set himself seriously to consider how it might best be overcome. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well.
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