Gwen and Alice were fantastically friendly, which seemed to annoy him, and Mrs. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. The stranger started at the touch, and spoke. Shari was to be protected, to be dissuaded from driving in cars with older boys at night, to be steered away from dope and beer and certain friends who had no plans to work or to go to college. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said. She wanted to think. 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. So long as she stood beside him, he was safe. That’s— that’s my private life.
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