For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. "Water!" he gasped. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. “Okay. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. After knocking for some time at the door without effect, he tried the latch, and to his surprise found it open. How can you protect me? Moreover, it is stealing that you have done, and therefore—’ ‘Don’t tell me you expect me to arrest myself again. And I'll have supper with you. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. ’ ‘As far as I know it, ma’am.
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