Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. 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. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. "We work together no more. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged.
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