Mr. ” “By all means,” Brendon answered. Saren Chen was a tall woman, thin and beautiful in a masculine way, Germanic. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing. . You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. 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.
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