” He said. 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. Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. How men suffer for the foolish things they do!" "Ay to that. I saw it this morning in the Daily Journal—an advertisement, offering a reward—" "A reward!" echoed Jack. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly.
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