ToC During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors' garrison,—for admission (by the Master's express orders,) was denied her. At luncheon, on the third day, a thick-set man with a blue jaw smiled across his table at her. Her heart's in the right place, at all events; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round, —that is, if she gets through her present illness. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. She liked to cook even though normal food was not nourishing to her.
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