The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. . “What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. But I don’t think she lays hold of one so. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. I am a resolute man, and hitherto when I have wanted a thing I have got it; but I have never yet wanted anything in my life as I have wanted you.
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