"Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. 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. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. "All's bowman, my covey. Above the housetops it was different. " Again Ruth nodded.
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