” She made her glasses glint. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. 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. ‘Thanks to him, Hilary and I nearly had our heads blown off. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. you did what you had to do. CHAPTER XXXI.
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