” She nodded. She hated the manor. 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. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. Spurlock mused over the previous night. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. But luncheon and dinners you will sit at my table.
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