’ She sighed. I wonder how it is,” she added, “that boys always make love so impertinently. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. ’ ‘So I heard. Wood. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. 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. Howard Spurlock.
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