But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. But we get over it. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. 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 suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her.
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