‘Which is why I feel sure he will utterly repulse the girl, even if she is his granddaughter. ” Michelle reported. ” “Afraid!” “Yes. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. . He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. 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. She leaned forward and addressed him.
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