” “There’s Miss Garvice. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. “Hi. “No, I’d like to. 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. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. .
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