“A claim,” he continued, “which I am quite prepared to recognize. 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. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. .
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