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. He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. This lapse was possibly due to her apparent determination to make full protest of Hilary’s conduct. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. Sheppard, falling on her knees.
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