It is that you cannot refuse her sanctuary. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. You complain of a condition, but you leave the correction to someone else. We LIKED each other well enough. “I thought you weren’t getting along so well with your mother these days.
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