the Night Watch

the Night Watch
The Nut Gatherers
The Painter's Honeymoon
the polish rider
She had learnt that he was about to leave England, and observed what an excellent and promising scheme it seemed to be. ¡¡¡¡`Yes; it is a likely scheme enough in a commercial sense, no doubt,' he replied. `But, my dear Mercy, it snaps the continuity of existence. Perhaps a cloister would be preferable.' ¡¡¡¡`A cloister! O, Angel Clare!' ¡¡¡¡`Well?' ¡¡¡¡`Why, you wicked man, a cloister implies a monk, and a monk Roman Catholicism.' ¡¡¡¡`And Roman Catholicism sin, and sin damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, Angel Clare.' ¡¡¡¡`I glory in my Protestantism!' she said severely. ¡¡¡¡Then Clare, thrown by sheer misery into one of the demoniacal moods in which a man does despite to his true principles, called her close to him, and fiendishly whispered in her ear the most heterodox ideas he could think of. His momentary laughter at the horror which appeared on her fair face ceased when it merged in pain and anxiety for his welfare. ¡¡¡¡`Dear Mercy,'he said, `you must forgive me. I think I am going crazy!'