‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. " "I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly. Lucia dismissed the rumors, as it was not likely an archbishop would renege on his duties to become her personal doctor. 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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