" He had now gained the high road. " "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. I have two Malay clerks in the store; but I'm obliged to have a white man to watch over them, or they'd clean me out. ” She passed out without reply. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. I shall count it a privilege. His large, coarse lips drew wider apart. 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 seemed to have expected them.
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