Your proposal reminds me of the Siennese who owed a victorious
general more than they could possibly repay. The legend goes that
they hanged him, in order to make him a saint after his death by
way of reward. I object to this sort of canonisation of Judith.
And she will object, too. You seem to leave her out of account
altogether. She is mistress of her own actions. She has a will
of her own. She is not going to give up her comfortable flat off
the Tottenham Court Road in order to dwell in Hoxton. She won't
go back to you under your conditions."
He smiled indulgently and held out his hand to signify that the
interview was over.
"She will, Sir Marcus."
Was there ever such a Torquemada of a creature? I respect
religion. I respect this man's intense conviction of the reality
of his conversion. I can respect even the long frock coat and
the long brown whiskers, which in the case of so dashing a
worldling as Rupert Mainwaring were a deliberate and daily
mortification of the flesh. But I hold in shuddering detestation
"the thumb-screw and the rack for the glory of the Lord," which
he cheerfully contemplated applying to Judith.
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