She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” 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. Melusine felt the calloused hand grasp around hers. ” He smiled at her. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical.
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