You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. You’ll end there one day, mark my words. The world had not passed by but had gone around it in a tremendous half-circle. I have known Miss Pellissier as long as any of you perhaps, and I have seen something of her since her arrival in London. 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. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. “As things are at present,” she said, “it is true. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round.
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