He did not even reply to her for several minutes. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. She appeared to be considering. Even if you didn’t know it. 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. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done. "We're forgetting," he said. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. Then the incredible happened. Wood's famous 'prentice?" "What apprentice?" asked the stranger, in surprise. "Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. “And where are YOU going?” he said. "Buck up! While there's life there's hope.
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