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. Manning’s handwriting, and opened his letter and read some lines before its import appeared. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. . As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. “Dear friend,” she said, “do not magnify me into a physiological problem. I have suspected him of possessing a skeleton key to my apartments. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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