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. "I must go. “Home, of course,” she answered. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours. She is a year or so older than I am, and she is, well, of a very serene and proud and dignified temperament. “Close your eyes. I speak no harm of her.
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