. So many distresses— so many joys coming at the same time are too much for me. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. ’ Melusine rose from her chair in sudden irritation. It was that somebody had cheated you. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally. The moment she entered the room and he rose, she felt that she was immediately consigned to the circle of strangers; and it emptied her heart of its joy and filled it with diffidence. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room.
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