And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. “Yes! I must! The thing is becoming a torture to me. " There had never been, from that fatal hour eight months gone down to this, the inclination to confess. ” He smiled at her. 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.
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