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. A young man turned to pay the cabman. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy. Meet me. Detention was merry for the other detainees.
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