His suspicions at first fell upon you. Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. 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. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again. But she felt his lax figure become rigid.
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