It was the one that she had sworn she’d throw out, if only Julian had not liked it so much. 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. “We’ve made out but we haven’t had sex. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Her thick body was heavy and massive.
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