She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. 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. He never seemed to take full advantage while they were in his mammoth automobile.
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