"That you cannot."
"You are mad. You must be put under restraint."
"I will go to the madhouse, but not to the Punch-Bowl."
"You shall be forced to return."
"How?"
"I will have you tied. I will swear you are crazed. I will have you locked up, and I will beat you till you learn to obey and behave as I would have you."
"Jonas," said Mehetabel, "this is idle talk. Never, never will I go back to you."
"Never!"
He approached, his eyes glaring, his white fangs showing, like those of a dog about to bite.
Instinctively she put her hand into her pocket and drew forth a lump of ironstone, that she had brandished the previous evening before Sally Rocliffe and Giles Cheel; and which she carried with her as her only weapon of defence.