ONE:Poor parson knows kind friends are thinking{205} for him, he said. He knows it too well perhaps: he is so selfish that he leaves his happiness in the hands of others, and doesnt bother about it himself.Its my Helper, he cried, my sly little Helper. Then pushing back his chair, he took off his evening shoes, and putting on the slippers went solemnly round the table, saying to each of his hosts and fellow-guests, May I introduce you to my slippers? But when he came to Alice he said, I think you and my slippers have met before! There was never anything so deliciously playful.... But when he had padded back to his place, Keeling saw poor Alices eye go wandering, looking at every one in turn round that festive table except{308} Master. Finally, for one half second, her eye rested on him, and Keeling, as one of those who run, could read, and his heart went out to poor Alice. She was prodigiously silly, yet that one self-revealing glance decorated her. She loved, and that distinguished and dignified her.
TWO:He struggled against this nightmare sense of impotence. All his life he had designed his own career, in bold firm strokes, and fate had builded as he had planned. Fate was not a predetermined thing: the book of destiny was written by the resolute and strong for themselves, they had a hand on the pen, and made destiny write what they willed. It should be so to-morrow: he had but to determine what he chose should be, and this was the hour of his choice....
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