" "You'd better send him," jeered the turnkey. 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. " Jack was about to comply with the request, when an unlooked-for interruption occurred. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. "She has no secrets from me. And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her.
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