[Prisoners of Chance by Randall Parrish]@TWC D-Link book
Prisoners of Chance

CHAPTER XXIV
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Whether or not the fellow comprehended the meaning of that uproar, of those wildly dancing figures in his front, I could never determine; but, before the woman could in any way interfere, the sectary plumped down upon his knees, and, with head bent so low that every separate hair caught the reflection of the ruddy flames, began pouring forth a petition in sturdy English, and with a volume of voice that shook the whole interior.

It was not such a bad play, I take it, although he was desperately in earnest.

Very plainly he compared his worshipping auditory to certain scriptural characters, in a way that would not have proven flattering to them could they have interpreted his language.
"Oh, Lord God!" he roared, rolling his eyes upward and interjecting many a deep groan after each sentence.

"Infinite Jehovah, for some just reason of Thy own, Thou hast seen fit to lead Thy most humble servant into this den of iniquity.

Thou hast placed me in the fiery furnace of tribulation, it may be in the test of that faith which was delivered unto the saints, yet will I not bow down in the tents of the idolaters, nor profane Thy Holy Name by the worship of their false gods.


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