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. ’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. She cleaned everything, wiped every surface, mopped and scrubbed every last drop of blood.
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