I shall want you. 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 air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. ’ ‘Pah! You can never be Valade. That—that isn’t living! You are beside yourself.
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