He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. 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. Wood;—"Owen—Owen!—Thames, help!" "Coming!" cried Mr.
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