Brother and Sister VIII. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. " "What a life!" "No worse than yours. 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. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. You will leave me utterly distraught.
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