"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. A big breakfast is healthier anyway, so they say. ‘That is true,’ Melusine conceded. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. You are without sense and not sympathique in the least. The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. You want industry—you want steadiness. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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