The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. 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. “But how can you?” asked Constance. Three more people came to meet them at the door. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. "That's odd. I have unfinished business.
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