"Where are you?" "Here," replied Mrs. They will claim particular attention hereafter. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. 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. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. She looked at him mournfully.
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