"You've perjured yourself. Wood fared still worse. Wood," said Jonathan, advancing towards him, and speaking in a low tone, "the secret of your adopted son's birth is known to me. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. It makes wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good enough for Punch. 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. ” “I know,” said Mr Manning, “I know these Dreadful Statistics.
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