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. But you belong to me—and I want you. " "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha. A loud buzz of curiosity circulated among the domestics; some of whom— especially the females—leaned forward to obtain a peep at the culprit. But Sheppard took no notice of the exclamation. There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. ” “Oh, gimme a break, Lucy.
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