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 was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. “Another young woman, I suppose,” he said, “who knows better than her Maker about her place in the world. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. Now there is none. "Open the door, I say, or I'll burst it open. ‘But to do only what one wishes, it is not always convenient. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth.
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