Even so much allusion as this to that family shadow, she felt, was an immense recognition of her ripening years. Ramage. 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. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being.
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