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. ’ So saying, she threw a meaning look over her shoulder at Lucilla, much to Gerald’s approval. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. ’ At this, the fellow Valade burst into unwise speech. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick.
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