" "Because this child's life was threatened by the persons you have mentioned," rejoined Wood. Montague Hill is. 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. In all this world there was no sacred ground that said to her: Return! She was of all human beings the most lonely. He saw himself retreating from barricade to barricade, Ruth always advancing, perfectly oblivious of the terror she inspired.
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