Sheppard, struggling to escape, and holding the infant at arm's length; "have mercy on this helpless innocent!" And the child, alarmed by the strife, added its feeble cries to its mother's shrieks. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house.
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