He donned his winter coat. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. " "My writing! no such thing!" ejaculated the lady, casting a look of alarm at the woollen-draper. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. In any event, I explained that no one lived here and that we’d been called in because of suspected intruders. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other.
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