‘Quickly! You must get up. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. There was a young lad ahead of 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. But he reckoned without his host.
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