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“Ever since she left Bearwoode Manor there'd been people dictating what she should do, think, feel-- how she should behave. Why, even her grandmother had, but to good purpose. Now for the first time in her life it was as if, like a reptile, she'd shed her skin, abandoned an old version of herself and was ready to strike out anew, every day becoming more resistant to the expectations of others-- of men. Part of her longed to fly free, not to escape the chocolate house or Blithe Manor, but to relish what these places gave her-- freedom and safety, and within those bounds, the liberties they bestowed.” — Karen Brooks
Ever since she left Bearwoode Manor there'd been people dictating what she should do, think, feel-- how she should behave. Why, even her grandmother had, but to good purpose. Now for the first time in her life it was as if, like a reptile, she'd shed her skin, abandoned an old version of herself and was ready to strike out anew, every day becoming more resistant to the expectations of others-- of men.
Part of her longed to fly free, not to escape the chocolate house or Blithe Manor, but to relish what these places gave her-- freedom and safety, and within those bounds, the liberties they bestowed.