‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. The commissionaire smiled. ” She laughed. “He was a friend of your sister’s, was he not?” “I never heard her mention his name,” she answered. 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. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. The aunt laughed. On your own. Wanted a clean sweep for elbowroom. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. . You must have figured that out by now.
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