" "Think not to delude me, audacious wretch," cried the carpenter. 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. “You had only to ask——” “Do you think,” Anna interrupted, with a note of passion trembling also in her tone, “that I would have taken alms from Sir John, the man to whom I had lied for your sake. ” “You—you did what?” Anna exclaimed. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders.
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