’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. ’ ‘How can I have more? You have taken my pistol. 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. Her voice was weak and flat.
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