Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. It was as if he could smell it on her. I'll try a strong dose. ‘And your schooling?’ he pursued. Listen, Jack.
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