” She said, searching for her brassiere under his bed. ” “Perhaps I don’t. Suffer me to precede you. But you must see her alone; and that'll be no easy matter to manage, for she's a great invalid, and has generally somebody with her. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. 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. Not fit to be dust on your boots.
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