What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. “It’s settled. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. ’ ‘I swear to you, it is the exact truth,’ he protested. In the recess beside the fireplace were some open bookshelves.
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