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"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. “Absolutely platonically,” she said. "Mercy on us! Well, I thought their manners quite out o' the common. If Thames is murdered, you are his assassin. ” She had a moment of sheer panic at the thing she had done. To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. ’ Then she jammed her hat on her head all anyhow and ran from the room. ‘No, I do not go back. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. My son went down after his death. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended.
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