"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. ’ He thought Roding gave him an odd look, but his next question was already in his head. Sheppard, with a frenzied laugh. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom.
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