"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Mr. “I have not quarrelled with her. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. The elemental woman was always close to the cat: as the elemental man was always but a point removed from the wolf. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she was not a whit nearer being able to pay her tomorrow’s bill.
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