"I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. So Ruth returned to her room and sorted the books and magazines the doctor had loaned her, inspected the titles and searched for pictures. 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. ’ Hilary’s gaze was raking the room. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. Have you ever voted, Mr. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. Pure romantic nonsense on her part.
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