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. The doctor would naturally offer a hundred objections; he might seriously interfere; so he must be forestalled. "I see him!—row for your life!" "That's the way to miss him, master," replied Ben coolly. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. He declined supper, but took wine.
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