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 thought of all sorts of odd and desperate expedients, and with passionate petulance rejected them all. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. ‘Why, that’s it. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. “They have all been trying to turn my head.
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