“God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. The splendid voices sang on from phase to phase of love’s unfolding, the ship drove across the sea to the beating rhythm of the rowers. ‘Do not be imbecile. He pulsed and thrust as he released himself into her body. 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. ’ Gerald reached out and took her hand, enclosing it between both his own.
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