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. Come along, you mad jade. ’ ‘What offer?’ she asked, suspicion rife in her voice. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. ” “I am very much afraid,” Anna answered, “that it was.
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