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His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. 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. That old world that had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it. She throws a sort of spell over us all. Not fit to be dust on your boots. Mrs.
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