CHAPTER XXIII. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. ” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. “Never was such an age of transition. E below. "I shall like to call you that.
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