“You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. I was certain of it. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. 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. Sheppard. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. " "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. I can’t stand it.
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