Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. 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. "I've a good mind not to speak to you again, Sir!" cried Winifred, with difficulty repressing a tear of vexation; "you've acted unfairly. The rest she meant to keep for her immediate necessities.
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