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. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. " "I will carry you to the house, or fetch Mr. “Exceptionally so.
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