Then she went into the office. " "On what business, in the name of wonder?" asked Sheppard. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. 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. “I want to know who you are.
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