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. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. From the point of view of most things in the world of employment which a woman can do reasonably well and earn a living by, you’re unripe and half-educated.
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