You talk of freedom — I've never had it! I've been lonely and miserable and in despair, and you want me to consent to all that all over again!

Yes, I am free, she said to herself, but it's not like ordinary freedom, it's being in hell, a brilliant lucid hell.

I must return to my freedom which I now realise is something so essential that it makes my love for you seem like death.

She felt above all, as a sort of categorical imperative, the desire to set Hannah free, to smash up all her eerie magical surroundings, to let the fresh air in at last; even if the result should be some dreadful suffering.