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. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. For each costume she had devised a suitable form of matrimonial refusal. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup.
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