Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned. “Remember,” he said, “you are not by any means a dying man now, but you’ll never pull through if you don’t husband your strength. 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. She had to explain about and pay off that forty pounds.
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