Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. 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. “Let me help you,” he begged. “As it is doubtful whether the man will live, we should be glad if you would identify him. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. " "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. “I forbid it!” she said firmly. ” A bureaucratic three hours later, the paperwork was finished. After all, old P. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. Oh, you must believe me.
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