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. " "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. ‘That’s wicked, that is. I want to do something. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. .
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