“I think,” he said, “that some one ought to warn her. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. " "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. 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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