You go up the river to Mulqueen's.

That's the strategy in this campaign; that's excellent manoeuvring; that's good generalship! Eh?
Mask your purpose, Steve; make a feint of camping out here under my guns; then suddenly fling your entire force up the Hudson and fortify yourself at Mulqueen's! Ho, that'll fix 'em! That's going to astonish the enemy!" His harsh, dry, crackling laughter broke out like the distant rattle of musketry.
The ghost of a smile glimmered in Siward's haunted eyes, then faded as he leaned forward.
"She has refused me," he said simply.
The little doctor, after an incredulous stare, began chattering with wrath.

"Refused you! Pah! Pooh! That's nothing! That signifies absolutely nothing! It's meaningless! It's a detail.

You get well--do you hear?
You go and get well; then try it again! Then you'll see! And if she is an idiot--in the event of her irrational persistence in an incredible and utterly indefensible attitude"-- he choked up, then fairly barked at Siward--"take her anyway, sir! Run off with her! Dominate circumstances, sir! take charge of events! ...

But you can't do it till you've clapped yourself into prison for life.