Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. 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 through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. ” Ennison’s voice shook a little.
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