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. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. “I wish you would come and see my lawyers. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. . Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. We felt like thieves.
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