A nurse was at the other end of the room. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. 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. “Lift up one corner of the curtain for me. And, for one expedition at least, we will go up this desolate valley here to Mattmark, and so on to Monte Moro. For some time after he was locked up in this prison Jack continued in a very dejected state. As the Wastrel played, Spurlock knew that the man saw the inevitable end—death by drink; saw the glory of the things he had thrown away, the past, once so full of promise. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Ann Veronica was carried off her intellectual and critical feet by it altogether, and applauded and uttered cries that subsequent reflection failed to endorse. Ruth made a little gesture, of infinite pity; and this was quickly seized upon by the slant-eyed Chinese girl.
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