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 say, daddy,” she began, and was suddenly short of breath. She was by his side. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. "That is easily explained. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage.
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