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’ What would you tell her?” “If she asked advice, I should say she wasn’t fit to do anything of the sort. ’ ‘No, no, go and fetch the men to the house. “What about blood banks? Have you ever tried them?” “I don’t just take blood, John. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. 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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