“But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. 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. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. I wanted the magic of love. She shook them off of one foot. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness.
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