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Then she moved towards the door. Their conversation was conducted in the flash language, and, though unintelligible to Wood, was easily comprehended by this companion, who learnt, to her dismay, that the wounded man had received his hurt from her son, whose courage and dexterity formed the present subject of their discourse. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. "Here are a pair of gloves and a nosegay for you. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. “You are coming right out into life—facing it all.

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