"I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. The fire still burned brightly. Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. 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. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. ’ ‘You mean the bookroom, miss.
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