"Put your arms about me. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. E. The wheel and the navigating instruments were sternward, under a spread of heavy canvas, a protection against rain and sun. 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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