One more passer-by; and always would she remember his patience and tenderness and disinterestedness. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. 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. ” He said. " "A young fellow who thinks he's in love, when he has only been reading too much. "Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady.
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