"I'll make a sketch, too," he said. Fast asleep, he is. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. 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. The poor fellow's half smothered.
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