I could not have spoken to her. "Do not steel your heart against him, dear Thames," interposed Winifred. For a time she worried about that compulsory bath and cutaneous diseases. I did not reckon upon—him. 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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