” He slipped off the horse. There are pretty much three types, those that accept, and those who run away, and those who fight. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing. 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 sat on the edge of the bed overwhelmed, the roses cradled in her arms.
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