Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. 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. Relief flooded her. So saying, he manfully resumed his work; while Wood and Thames quitted the room, and went down stairs.
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