His instinct was in the direction of considering his daughters his absolute property, bound to obey him, his to give away or his to keep to be a comfort in his declining years just as he thought fit. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. "Dog!" cried Wild, freeing himself by a powerful effort, and dealing Jack a violent blow with the heavy bludgeon, which knocked him backwards, "you are not yet a match for Jonathan Wild. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them.
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