To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. 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. Me, you may have. Her gaze flickered down to his pistol. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. Martin’s crush. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief.
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