Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. He would have to make sure of her silence. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. 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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