The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild. “But your sister?” he asked. Pistols and pictures? Now it fair goes agin’ me nature to act rough with a lady, but you’ll come along of me at once. 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. They drove around town that night in his Buick convertible. “No you don’t!” said Ann Veronica, and walked out at a brisk and businesslike pace toward the house.
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