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"It's a miserable weakness to be afraid of bloodshed. When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Courtlaw rose to his feet. I am five-and-thirty, and I have knocked about in the world and tasted the quality of life. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room.
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