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. There were two of them. The flu attacked
my reproductive organs and caused me to expel my
194
female parts. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. I must leave England to-night. My husband, he is cruel and wicked, and—and
entirely undistinguished. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. He
would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish
and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part
she did not care to refuse. His new wife’s face was sweet and angelic with hair
the color of flax, her belly already visibly large beneath a
roe skin pelt. . I
cannot do it, David. "
This frankness rather subdued Spurlock. org
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 15-07-2024 06:51:31