" "Or the flat stones in the meadows, teeming with life underneath. I was curious about that. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. He stooped to recover it, and his face was hidden. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally.
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