Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. 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. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile. They agreed that they must marry at once, this morning, before the doctor could suspect what was toward. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too.
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