Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. Hill, I hope you won’t find everything cold. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. 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.
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This video was uploaded to suzume-news.club on 24-09-2024 10:36:04
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