"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. I saw the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on his head into the road. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. She was like an angel with one wing. It’s the only clean way for us. " "What can be done for him?" cried Thames. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side.
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