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. “Sir John is not at all that sort. Now he would take her away from the house before killing her, and no one would find her body at all. ‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart.
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