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. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. “John, I’m so hungry. Then a ride to London on horseback. ‘If it is that your men there are going to arrest us, then why do they not do so?’ ‘Left to myself, I’d let them,’ he replied grimly.
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