But I don’t care; I haven’t a spark of shame. 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. Wood at Dollis Hill, was assaulted and half-killed by a party of ruffians, headed, he swore, by Mr. “What are you doing?” he asked.
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