“It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. 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. “Thank goodness!” said that retreating aspect, “that’s said and over.
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