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Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow. Let’s have an advance round of applause for our concertmaster, 249 Lucy Albert!” Lucy was horrified. “This stirs one. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. 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. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present.
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