I’ve had a headache all day. 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. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. That it provided proof of the girl’s identity was one thing. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. As a rule their comings and goings were discussed with perfect confidence, but on this occasion they both felt that there was intent in her silence as to her destination. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. So, you see—’ ‘Do not say any more,’ Melusine uttered, flinging away and moving to the fireplace. I might have known it. White, my landlady, believes his story.
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