"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. " "I will. ‘If you did not want me to talk of it,’ she told him with characteristic insouciance, ‘you should not have mentioned the matter to me.
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