“Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. There are way-stations—even terminals. 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. He tried this sentence with expletives. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself.
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