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. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit.
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