Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. CHAPTER III. We WERE thieves. "Do you know this picture?" he added, with another significant look, and pointing to the miniature. " "Readily. " "Farewell, Jack," cried twenty voices. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. ” Anna’s eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing. " The little girl's countenance fell.
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