” “Where?” Courtlaw asked quickly. "By the way," said the doctor, as he sat down in the dining room of the Victoria and ordered tea, "I've been thinking it over. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. 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. ” She stopped short, full of things un-said.
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