"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. Anna hailed a bus. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin.
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