Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried. At breakfast both of them played their parts skillfully. But to-day he did not get beyond half a dozen desultory start-offs. 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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