A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. "No," replied Jonathan, with a brutal laugh. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. "It is Jonathan. 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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