” She raked into the fire with the poker. He's settling an account in the house. 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. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. .
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