"I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. We'll try whether he'll get loose again. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. “She contrives somehow to strike the personal note in an amazing manner. The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. 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. Farewell.
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