’ ‘Not dead, miss. I couldn’t sit down for a week!” “Oh, how terrible for you. " "That child may be the means of saving me," muttered the stranger, as if struck by a new idea: "I shall gain time by the expedient. 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. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure.
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