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. net/license). How is she?” “My sister is quite well, thank you,” she answered. It would send business elsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperous that one could afford to lose a single guest. Clotilde’s stunning green eyes were reflected in the gazes of the tender young children, but their faces had been hollow and sunken, their hair matted, and their clothing in bad need of repair.
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