“Useless—worse than useless. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. If I did not love you so much I believe I could win you by sheer force of character, for people tell me I am naturally of the dominating type. She rose from her chair, and began walking up and down the room restlessly. I want him as my friend. “I wonder what you could do?” he said. Never. She said that she couldn’t stand Mike. 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. The hurricane had now reached its climax. . Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love.
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