The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Thames Darrell, I've said, is at Mr. Wild," said the turnkey, trembling in every joint. ” “No, it’s just a surprise. 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. These passers-by who touch us but lightly and are gone, leaving the eternal imprint! So long as she lived, Ruth would always remember that embrace. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. She had paid her bill, and she had enough left in her purse to pay many such. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. “Bless you, sweetheart.
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