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. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn.
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