net Transcribers Note: Obvious typesetter errors from the original corrected in this etext. “I am exceedingly sorry,” he said. My trouble is with your sister. Let us be gone. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. “Sometimes it is not bad. 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. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. “Are you feeling okay?” “Just fine.
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