"Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it. " "Your prisoner!" echoed Jonathan, derisively. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. Then there was also the horse. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. 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. He was all alone, too.
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