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Take, if you please, your own pistol. ’ The old man simply stared at her. V. I saw him ride away with that other fellow. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. 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.
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