She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. 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. The clock struck half-past ten. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. "Ah! but," said I, "there's a great deal in being hanged. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her.
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