"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. As concertmaster, it was Lucy’s duty to seat the orchestra as well as tune them. I did not know you spoke Kanaka," he broke off. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. .
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