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. A nurse was at the other end of the room. It seems that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the artist sister whom he was with. Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure.
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