He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. 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. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. I think that WAS decision.
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