’ ‘But what have I done?’ protested Gerald innocently. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. ‘I find you excessively rude. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. She even hit the jackpot in 1952 when she found a photograph in a London issue of Vogue. 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. ” “Don’t let there be any more.
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