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“Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. She could not stir hand or foot. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. 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. Did you make all of these planes?” She asked. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned.

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