When Ann Veronica came into the study she found every evidence of a carefully foreseen grouping about the gas fire. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. “Anna! Thank God I have found you at last. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. ‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. 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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