"Stay!" interposed Jonathan. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. What a wonderful world it is!" Music.
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