’ ‘And you will not,’ came triumphantly from the cherry lips. ’ ‘You see? Not to be trusted,’ Hilary uttered disgustedly. ‘I’ll send one of my men to see you here this very evening. 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.
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