Whenever she came upon the obliterated word and paused, her father would say: "Faith. 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. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. “But all the rest of our case is right. ” “It’s a score you can buy all sorts of things with. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. ” “What ball?” The question was rhetorical. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. \" Lucy winced.
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