” She shook her head, snapping out of her reverie. 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. “Please let me drive you home. Capes, do you think. When you've seized him, cough thrice thus,—and two rough-looking gentlemen will make their appearance.
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