‘Do not imagine that I will leave poor Jacques. 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. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. His revelry, however, was put an end at the expiration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles.
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