"Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches. He reeled, and crashed to the floor. " "I'll bring you an armful this afternoon. Wood. “I must go. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. They mean something. On the way home he was still thoughtful. 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.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOC4yMDIuNTQgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDA0OjQzOjUzIC0gMjQ5NDkyODI2
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