. I thought I’d see Paris, do the thing—like a toff. 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. Actually, he had come all this distance simply to fulfil a certain clause in his contract with Fate, to be in Canton on this particular day. I don’t know if I express myself clearly. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. "All's over," muttered Jonathan. He was six blocks away from his home, a ten story building apparently made solely of glass. Leave the means to me.
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