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. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Later, she would sew it on. ’ ‘Well, don’t bite my head off,’ protested Mrs Sindlesham, clearly amused. ‘Pig, miss?’ ‘The one who calls himself Valade, idiot,’ snapped Melusine impatiently.
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