Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be
nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in
the urgency of his hospitality. "Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. 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. ”
“Right!” he answered. But it is all
over now, and presently there will be some one else. Rank ingratitude, I
call it. There’s nothing happened at all!” She didn’t mean, he
concluded, to give him any more trouble ever, and he was free to begin a fresh
chromatic novel—he had just finished the Blue Lagoon, which he thought very
beautiful and tender and absolutely irrelevant to Morningside Park—or work in
peace at his microtome without bothering about her in the least. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his
feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly. No great lover of state or state costume
at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in
dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 18-07-2024 07:13:31