That's why we look with wonder at the past.

And this persists even when from practice and through growing callousness of fibre we come to the point when nothing that we meet in that rapid blinking stumble across a flick of sunshine--which our life is--nothing, I say, which we run against surprises us any more.

Not at the time, I mean.

If, later on, we recover the faculty with some such exclamation: 'Well! Well! I'll be hanged if I ever,.

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