He smothered a laugh. “I think I can tell you something which may be very good news for you presently. ’ The things she said and did from you—seem impossible. 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. I am gambling on his intuition. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. “So, just how many foster homes were you in before the coming to live here?” “You don’t want to hear about all of that, Michelle.
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