” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. Only au revoir. “You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. Who are you going with?\" \"Nobody. Mike was drinking a cup of black coffee. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. 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.
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