He saw now that it was merely a boy. She met him by the dugout after the game. “But if you had?” she said. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom. “I want you so much, Lucy. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. 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. Tickle the ears of their reverences with any idle nonsense you please: but tell them nothing you care to have repeated.
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