‘I might have killed you,’ she snapped, ‘if only you did not say anything. Sebastian returned to find her blood dripping into the crucible. 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. Watching her strip had been delicious for him, and a part of him enjoyed her self-consciousness acutely. More importantly, she had her wits. There was a sharp knocking at the outside door. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. He smiled tenderly. Above she found the two Chinamen squatted at the side of the door. " The lad made no answer, but left the room.
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