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. ’ Her face fell. " "Hush!" replied Mrs. She whipped round suddenly, and discovered the woman wedged into the corner by the window, keeping out of the way. " "I was never going to tell anybody," she added.
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