She dismissed the whole subject with a little shrug of the shoulders. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. So she built a shrine. Wood laughed louder than ever. ‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. She did her best to do this. She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. Women never throw themselves into each other's arms; they calculate the distance and the damage perfectly. 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. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked.
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