But Miss Mary and me—’ Melusine looked up as the woman broke off again. Borrow. We think the whole thing is straight and noble at bottom, and it isn’t. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all. 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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