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” She laughed. . Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. B. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent.
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