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. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. There's more than I undertook to bring. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot.
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