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. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. Both girls looked pale and listless. He was all alone, too. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. He cherished her. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. To be sure, he was attentive, respectful; but in his conduct there was none of that shameless camaraderie of a man who loved his woman and didn't care a hang if all the world knew it. Warren’s Profession. Though I’ll wager she used this passage, and we certainly ought to investigate it.
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