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. " "Can I have a word with you, master?" said Sheppard, approaching Wood. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. “Sir John is not at all that sort. ’ ‘Good. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom.
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