"It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. He thrust the smaller weapon into a scabbard that hung from his belt. 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. “Tell your sister she was right to shoot, quite right.
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