‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. ‘Yes, miss. "I love her already. 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. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. Norris, and do not return till Father Spencer arrives. Her eyes flashed.
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