‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Likely as not outside the law, too. 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. She could not explain in words why they disappointed her or that she was disappointed. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. He unlocked himself from her embrace.
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