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. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night.
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