At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. If Miss Charvill should take it into her head to dash off on some foolish errand, go with her by all means. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson.
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