And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. 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. The others hurried to the window.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 02-10-2024 08:31:46