So she said: “I won’t come home. You love money. The mock astonishment of his face immediately became genuine. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. Why should you wish to forget it? Unless it is that you did not enjoy it. 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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