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 her heart kept on sinking. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. Her mind had been and was full of the thought of Capes, a huge generalized Capes-lover. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. One gets drawn into things. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. I tried it myself, Sir.
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