“I promise, Lucy. He looked across at Annabel, and he groaned. 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. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. He brought into service all his Oriental bar-room tricks. That's the job. ” “If he lives through the next hour,” the doctor answered, “I will send some one.
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