“When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention. His letter of credit; probably that was it; and, observing the strangeness of the room he was in, his first concern on returning to consciousness would naturally relate to his letter of credit. 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.
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