So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night. Abruptly she got out of bed, smoothed her sheet and straightened her pillow and lay down, and fell almost instantly asleep. “Oh, God!” she said at last, “how I wish I had been taught to pray!” Part 3 She had some idea of putting these subtle and difficult issues to the chaplain when she was warned of his advent. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves.
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