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. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise.
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