“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. “What has she told you?” “Everything. The months that followed September spiraled downward. " "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. ” Anna was silent. Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room. 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. There is a button loose on that coat under your pillow.
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