She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. This world over here! Everything's upsidedown or back-end-to. After all, old P. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. Ennison,” she said. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. He opened his eyes, protestingly, and beheld the realization of his dream.
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