CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. . ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. This I have sworn to do—this I will do. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. We can be friends again.
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