You refuse me your confidence. 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. The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. “We have to get in, I think,” said a nice little old lady in a bonnet to Ann Veronica, speaking with a voice that quavered a little. They talked across their meal in an easy and friendly manner about Ann Veronica’s affairs.
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