" "Come along, master," said the waterman. She had lost her sense of direction, and was among unfamiliar streets. 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. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone.
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