Men fled from their tottering habitations, and returned to them scared by greater dangers. He dashed against the screen door before she could catch him and made the veranda. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. I’m damaged goods. 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. She turned with an effort.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOC4xNTIuOTMgLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDExOjM4OjI1IC0gMTI0NDQzMTYzNw==
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