When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. She began to read, and presently she entered another world, and remained in it for two hours. Whatever she does is minimized. “It’s a flabby, loose-willed world we have to face. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. 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. And instead of accepting the situation gratefully, he felt vaguely hurt! One evening in September a proa rasped in upon the beach.
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