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 have come for an explanation,” she said. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. Then she would write and tell her father what she had done, and put their relationship on a new footing. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. ‘I allow anyone in. ” “You’ll make me look a fool before all my friends.
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