“Your sex is a terrible fraud. Try your luck with Jarvis Remenham—if you will. " "Do not distress him, dear father," said Winifred; "he suffers deeply. It was a gracious gesture, she thought, as he trudged to the Beck’s humble doorstep in his stiff blue polyester uniform. And in the vestry was the sword of monsieur le major. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. 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. What I do know I shall have no hesitation in telling anyone who has the right to ask.
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