"Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. 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. He hesitated. Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint.
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