She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. . Doesn’t know where he is, thought the captain. ” She was able to go straight to her room without delay, and she at once locked the door with a little sigh of relief. But it's French manners, I suppose. I love him as a brother. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me.
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