She seemed to be making some sort of inventory. 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. And now, Sir, have I kept faith with you?" "You have," replied Darrell. Ann Veronica had one of her flashes of insight. It would be protective; it would with age turn to silver unnoticeably. There’s plenty to be got out of life in a decent sort of way. Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you.
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