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. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. I felt as though I had bandaged eyes. I have now settled my affairs, and made every preparation for my departure to France, where I shall spend the remainder of my days. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Smith obeyed. No other man should touch her; she was Hoddy's, body and soul, in this life and after. When Mr.
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