Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. Just a friendly polite suggestion. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle.
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