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"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. Before you have lived—” He became darkly prophetic. " "They're lifting her out of the carriage," interposed Charcam; "will it please your honour to send for some advice and the chaplain?" "Fly for both," returned Sir Rowland, in a tone of bitter anguish. You are more in my power than I am in yours. . I can't concentrate on my work. I am bored to distraction. I can esteem him, regard him; but, love him as he ought to be loved—that I cannot do. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not. ” “Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?” she asked quietly.
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