The pistol was lowered slightly. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. Opening the door, he found it littered with straw, on which he threw himself, and instantly fell asleep. ” The dinner came to an end at last, and the whiskered waiter presented his bill and evacuated the apartment and closed the door behind him with an almost ostentatious discretion. So do please believe that in this matter I am acting for the best. 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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