Entering the Lodge, the first person he beheld was Austin, who was only just up, and whose toilette appeared scarcely completed. Spurling, who sat on the right of the table. “I can get you,” Mr. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. 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. She did not wince.
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