But even you cannot alter her character. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. The perfume was the only one she ever used. “But how can you?” asked Constance. 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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