\"Sure, I'd love to borrow some clothes for the night. So it would always be between herself and Manning. But you——” Something seemed to catch his breath. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. 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. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off.
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