A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. 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. "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye. She was furiously angry. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. “I thought you were coming right across the Park.
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