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. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. Instinctively she imitated this action, chilled and a little frightened at the expression of terror that confronted her. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “these gentlemen are your friends, and therefore they are my friends.
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