It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. 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. I really must leave you now. Earles, but it is a good one. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong. You never can tell. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained.
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