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. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. "You do love me?" "God knows how much!" Suddenly he laid his head on her shoulder. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDEzLjU5LjE0MC4yMzggLSAwMi0wNi0yMDI0IDA1OjU0OjM2IC0gMTI5MjM3MDYx
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