Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. She had fallen asleep. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently. I am going up to dine with my sister.
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