The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. ‘Very well, arrest me. 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. And then you can go home and think things over before we talk again. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it.
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