"A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. “They might do you good,” she remarked. 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. They laughed and talked and stared about them. "The poor young man!" she said. In vain he fondly urged his suit, And, all in vain, the question put; She answered,—"Mr. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. She had black hair, fine eyebrows, and a clear complexion; and the forces that had modelled her features had loved and lingered at their work and made them subtle and fine.
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