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 is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. . “Annabel at last,” he shouted. The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. The second look told me I was wrong. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe.
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