" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. " A shadow, which was not cast by the jib, fell upon them both. This also struck her as odd. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. 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.
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