Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. “You are not boring me,” she said, “but I would rather talk of something else. Meet me. He hugged her when he saw her in the hallway. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. “It seems—It’s interesting.
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