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A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. 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. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. But I do not need that Gérard attend. I believe that I have heard my sister speak of you. "It is time you should know whom you have to deal with. . ‘Thank you,’ she said, leaning heavily on his arm for a moment.
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