Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. 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. "It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard. Leave the means to me.
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