At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. 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. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works unless you comply with paragraph 1. ’ The things she said and did from you—seem impossible.
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