There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. So there is no escape. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. 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 spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. They had not to tarry long. ‘Certainly no one will find it. Promise me one thing before I leave you. ’ So saying, he pulled her forward, slipping her arms about his back. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it.
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