Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. ‘You put that thing away now, missie. 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. For a few minutes all was silent. No one in the world is beyond the shaft of scandal— we all catch it terribly sometimes.
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