She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. But to confess about Gerald— no, a thousand times. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. “Gross. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. She held out her arms to him and smiled. 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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