Anyhow, she’s disappeared for some reason or other. You would want me to be clean, if you gave me a thought, that is. ’ ‘But what of justice?’ asked Lucilla, evidently dazed. It’s not far from twilight. 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.
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