"What has put it into your head that your son yet lives?" he asked. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. out of the ten or twelve people one meets in a month not only say but feel and assume a thing, it is very hard not to fall into the belief that the thing is so. ” He was a little uneasy. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. ” “Did you ever formally change your name to Albert, Lucy?” “No, I did not. Let’s go up to my room.
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