127 “But Mary Lucia, it isn’t what it looks like! She’s an old friend, there’s nothing serious going on!” Without a word, she about-faced and flew down his steps, running fast, jumping four steps at a time. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. When she finished her last cadence, Carolyn and Thomas begged her to play encores. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers.
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