Listening attentively, he fancied he heard the breathing of some one near him, and moved cautiously in the opposite direction. "I had to give in to him. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. 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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