. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. ‘Do not speak of him. To compare me to a starving pig. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. A sudden knock at the door startled her.
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