Shari squealed, clutching her towel around her. 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. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. Wonderful! The water, dripping from you, must have looked like pearls. “I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica.
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