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. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. "Do you wish to earn a rich reward, my good friend?" said Thames to the watchman, as soon as they were left alone. After great exertions on both parts, the spike yielded to their combined strength, and snapped suddenly off. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage.
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