Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand. "In with him!" "Ay—ay, yer hon'r," cried the foremost chairman, lending a helping hand. So presently they got into a hansom together, and Ann Veronica sat back feeling very luxurious and pleasant, and looked at the light and stir and misty glitter of the street traffic from under slightly drooping eyelids, while Ramage sat closer to her than he need have done, and glanced ever and again at her face, and made to speak and said nothing. The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not tell how or why. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. 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.
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