You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. 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. " Figg turned aside to hide the tears that started to his eyes,—for the stout prizefighter, with a man's courage, had a woman's heart,—and the procession again set forward. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. And, dragging Mrs. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. The theme was a masquerade.
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