" "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. And she seemed always to keep one eye on Ann Veronica’s dress. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. 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. It must be the dawn creeping in. He returned the locket without comment.
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