She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. 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. Montressor’s guests. . But at the word “home” she turned again. Her husband was prouder of her every day. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes.
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