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She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. If Martha knew all, she would certainly die of shock. “This has almost killed your father. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. “I wonder if there are any good women really. “Yeah,” Shari nodded enthusiastically. Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. 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 embraced her like her father once had.
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