Mr. "There's my answer!" rejoined Wild, hurling the bludgeon at him, with such fatal effect, that striking him on the head it brought him instantly to the ground. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. ” “Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. “You are of the genus obstinate,” he said. 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. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley.
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