But he only went home again to Paddington. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. "He can't escape. I would sooner see you in a ’bus again. “I can say no more. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck.
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