E. Michelle stopped by the Beck’s after school that day. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. Losing his presence of mind, Jack quitted his hold, and dropped upon the frame. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. As far as I recollect, there were two. You do not believe his statement?" "I do not," replied Winifred. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. 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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