Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. 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. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. 1715.
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