Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered.
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