Confusion of Ideas

Despite the confusion of ideas [raging:raining] in my head, I was at least young, innocent, and free that summer consequently almost happy. Sometimes I [would:want] rise quite early in the morning, for I slept on the open verandah, and the bright, horizontal beams of the morning sun would wake me up. Dressing myself quickly, I would [tuck:put] a towel and a French novel under my arm, and go off to bathe in the river in the [shade:made] of a birch tree which [stood:stand] half a verst from the house.