His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet
taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly
rubefacient. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had
driven him back to the old coat. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not
even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. There'll
be busy days and idle. She is a fortune-teller and
a vessel for man’s pleasure. 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. F.
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This video was uploaded to indienet.info on 29-06-2024 21:55:14