Her aunt returned before the packing was done, and Ann Veronica lunched with an uneasy sense of bag and hold-all packed up-stairs and inadequately hidden from chance intruders by the valance of the bed. To Ah Cum, who was watching her covertly, the smile was like a bit of unexpected sunshine. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. Wasn’t it—a little bit of a scene?” “Oh! let me see. Lad, I admire you even in your folly. 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. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. Plus he’s a genius.
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