She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. 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. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. But why did he turn away? "Wait!" Ruth called to her father.
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