The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. The veranda bamboo will be enough for me. I snatched it up, pointed it blindly at him, and fired. To disillusion her, forthwith.
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