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. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland.
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