‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. 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. While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. From this spot a road, more resembling the drive through a park than a public thoroughfare, led him gradually to the brow of Dollis Hill.
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