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gutenberg. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling
manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. In his muscular pudgy hand
was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands:
the portrait of a youth of eighteen. 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. Its cavernous expanses equaled the
upstairs of the house. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough
between half the men and women in London. Go to her. Very
good. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. ’
‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’
‘Imbecile. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different
air.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 03-07-2024 11:38:48