On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. It would be a great matter, I must own, to bring Jonathan Wild to justice. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. "You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. Remember?’ ‘Parbleu,’ came from his still struggling victim. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday.
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