’ Roding left the house instantly, not even pausing to nod. “Very well,” he said. But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. 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. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. I've often seen them storming the Carnegie Hall stage. Too many.
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