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. Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. He had grabbed a tiny remote control and flew the thing around the table, landing it there and turning it off. ’ ‘Very much so,’ Gerald said, matching her tone, and at once forced the discussion back to his own point of interest by adding, ‘I was particularly struck by those poor Valades. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. ’ ‘But what a perfectly famous adventure.
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