" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. " Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed for the spinster to stop. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. Rather a magniloquent term, perhaps, but what else am I to say? One of these is that the most absolutely selfish thing in the world is to give way to depression, to think of one’s troubles at all except of how to overcome them.
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