“It’s okay, Michelle. “To your room!” Michelle cowered, her face flushed with anger. It is no good waiving the thing; it is true. 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. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-09-2024 06:51:59