I’ve to collect my sword and hat, and then we must get back to London. ’ “Crude, I admit. 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. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there.
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