’ A faint smile crossed Gerald’s lips. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. " And, as he spoke, he took up a sheet of paper, and hastily traced a few lines upon it. In one of the little red circles the doctor had traced that abbreviation. 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. ’ Joan sniffed. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter.
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