"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. ’” “Yes?” “I think—yes, I went on in a pleasing blend of the casual and sotto voce, ‘The fact of it is, sir, I happen to be your son-in-law, Capes. She had grabbed! She became less and less attentive to his meditative, self-complacent fragments of talk as she told herself this. ” Annabel laughed hardly. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. Do you know that he is very much in love with you?” Anna smiled. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's.
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