With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. I loathe this room. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides. “Tell her,” said Mr. ’ Gerald ignored this.
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