. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. She is more dear to me than anything else. 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. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions. He was aware of Hilary, in company with Lucilla and the comtesse’s daughter some few yards away, listening in suddenly. ” He chuckled, wincing at the thought. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard.
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