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. I know how bad it feels. I waited for her at the back. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. Amongst others, a person near the door, roused by the shriek, observed a man make his exit with the utmost precipitation.
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