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"You show more consideration to the feelings of a hempen widow, than there is any need to show. You said that it would bring trouble. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. 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. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all.
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This video was uploaded to jiiney.com on 31-05-2024 08:10:59
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