And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company. Her husband was prouder of her every day. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. " "Sir Rowland is my brother," resumed Lady Trafford coldly.
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