A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. She directed the orchestra to tune again. The door opened, and a slightly overweight pretty blonde, an older, wiser version of Michelle, came into view. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. 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. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean.
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