But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. While you talked I was only making our plans. I need hardly say that your aunt joins with me very heartily in this request. The man in me would like to break every bone in your body, but the physician understands that you don't actually realize what you have done. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. ’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Lucilla enthusiastically. Horrid!’ ‘Yes, but it has been extremely useful for me,’ argued Melusine, ‘so that I am very much pleased with this passage.
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