He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. This way, my dear—and— you’ll excuse my mentioning it, but a quiet blouse and a little chiffon, you know, will be quite sufficient. ‘The major thinks she’s worth it,’ put in Prudence quietly. “What’s that for?” He said. I wonder what it was. 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 trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger.
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