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. " "Ah, yes; that's all very well. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. ’ ‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. "By the avenger of his family's dishonour—by your brother," he replied, coolly. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. He introduced her as his \"friend\" Lucy.
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