"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. His absence was thought by the charitable to be from grief. . He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. ” “That sounds very interesting,” she answered coolly.
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