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Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. ” Annabel rose and followed her sister from the room. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother.
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