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. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. They would arrest him for the French spy they had thought her at first. That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again. Vorsack.
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