After that consolations fled. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. 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 presume you were not with her in France?’ Kimble stared. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. . She confronted him with his own double-standard.
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