Two hours had come and gone during this tantalizing occupation. As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. He savored the last solo, the coda. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent.
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