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. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. . He was not due from the City until about six, and so she went and played Badminton with the Widgett girls until dinner-time. “Why not?” He asked. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. But he wrote on. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours.
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