It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Jack fell on his knees beside her. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. “I wonder how it is,” she exclaimed, “that my friends have so much more confidence in me than I have in myself. Funk! I’ll see it out.
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