” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. Earles recovered his spirits. 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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