"Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. 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. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. “Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion. " Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. Supper was over.
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