She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. 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. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence. ” Lucy said. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. " CHAPTER V.
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