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Mistress Penwick by Dutton Payne
page 62 of 327 (18%)
susceptible to extremes; as a simile: a maid whose soul is ever
vibrant with the ineffable joys of the world to come, walks by the
seashore and mayhap beholds the full moon rise from the water and cast
to her very feet a pathway of gold, and she will quickly join herself
to those who see like visions, and pathway will lie against pathway
and produce a sea of gold; on the other hand, if she be a foolish
virgin and looks not before her, but tosses high head in pride or
walks with downcast eyes and smiles and blushes and smirks and flings
aside thoughts of deity, until she becomes submerged; on a sudden
Gabriel will blow and the world will cease revolving, and then--where
wilt thou be, oh, maid that hath fluttered from sweet to sweet and
forgotten thy prayers?" There came a great happy sigh from the
testered bed--

"Thou hast powerful breath, Janet, and 'twas an immense bitterwort
bush thou were beating about. I am sorry I forgot my prayers. I will
say them twenty times to-day, to make up."

"And it's the heathen that repeateth a prayer oft; thou hadst better
say 'God, have mercy upon my untowardness!' once, from thy heart, than
to say thy rosary from now until doom with thy mind upon a bumptious
Russian."

"What is the day, Janet?"

"'Tis as bleak and stormy as one could wish."

"What is the hour?"

"Eleven."
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