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" "But, mother, mayn't I sit up to see whether Thames returns?" implored Winifred. " "How soon do you expect Mishter Vudd?" inquired the janizary, tauntingly. Her father was distinctly irascible, and disposed more than ever to hide away among the petrological things—the study was turned out. "Let me go," cried Winifred. " Here the chapmen set up another boisterous peal. . 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. ’ Charvill eyed the girl with resentment.
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