He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. 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. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. I had never dreamed of such a friend as you. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear.
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