a claudent muscle

He repayred to God with this prayer, and said nothinge. Yet wyth a great ardency of spirit, he pearsed Gods eares.

Ignatius pounded a paw into the oilcloth on the kitchen table.

‘Sure, it’s always the wildest kids who have the strictest parents.’ ‘Those children must be so unhappy.’ At this moment I had a terrifying thought – what if they’re not unhappy? Or, more precisely, what if they’re no more unhappy than any other children growing up on this trashfire of a planet?