Her mouth at half-cock, Melusine stood there staring at him. 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. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait.
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