There were lines in her face that age had not put there. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. ” The cabman, knocking with the butt end of his whip upon the window, reminded her that he was in a similar predicament. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. 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.
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