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. ” “No,” cried Miss Miniver, almost vehemently. God knows how you did it. Bête, she told herself fiercely. “Yes. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. She knew his appetite from many a homemade dinner and knew also that he had taken Bitch Vorsack’s comments to heart. "Set your prisoner free!" returned Wood. She longed to enjoy human food as he did. Breakfast, too, was an impossible occasion. Give me your staff. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant.
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