Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. At length, she suddenly started to her feet; and before Winifred could prevent her, staggered up to Thames. Lucy sat in back of Jane Lenihan, who never spoke to her. 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. ‘I was not born to this. Perhaps marriage hurt.
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