Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. It was a young girl who overheard me when I was on my third shopkeeper who answered my question. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked. It is the only way.
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