She made a curious movement toward her niece, then suddenly, convulsively, she dabbed down something lumpy on the table and turned to follow her brother. Ann Veronica said nothing. And all to find that picture of Mary Remenham. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question. Dolby was portly and handsome. "Don't disturb yourself," continued the other, nowise disconcerted by the rebuke. 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.
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