” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. He was in great pain and it meant that he would be in casts for twelve weeks. Her heart ached; and that puzzled her. Go on and tell me. 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. Say, that girl fooled me at first glance. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. “Go on!” “People talked to you in Paris about us,” she continued, “about Anna the virtuous and Annabel the rake.
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