The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. 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. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 08-06-2024 14:12:16
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