***** Coconuts grew perpetually. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. 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. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal.
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