She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. Jonathan had not deceived him. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. He brought another small loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. "You have said," pursued the widow, "that she, who has once erred, is irreclaimable.
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