She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. A slender young man, wearing glasses, appeared from the shadow of the nearest van. 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. Blood, they say, won't come out. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. ‘I did not send you a card because in the normal way of things you rarely attend such affairs.
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