Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. In a tall glass the rind of a Syrian orange was arranged in spiral form. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. With such qualifications as she possessed, two chief channels of employment lay open, and neither attracted her, neither seemed really to offer a conclusive escape from that subjection to mankind against which, in the person of her father, she was rebelling.
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