All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. He resented being regarded as irregular. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape. A very small settlement, mostly natives. 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. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered.
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