Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. There was a lock, apparently more than a foot wide, strongly plated, and girded to the door with thick iron hoops. “I will do whatever you want,” said Ann Veronica. “Now replace the stone, my child.
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