Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. A familiar figure was making his way towards them. " She laughed; and it was pleasant laughter in his ears.
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