” “What do you want?” he asked, bluntly. 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. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand.
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