Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. I was—I was a corespondent. 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.
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