But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. 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. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. CHAPTER XVIII. And she would have to go tomorrow. Not a word was uttered by the assemblage; but a hush of expectation reigned throughout. “Yes.
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