Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. “I’ll bring it to-morrow. Admire her as much as you choose—at a distance. She wrenched her head away from his grip and got her arm between his chest and hers. He is probably very wealthy. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. It was a boy baby cooing in swaddling clothes, a baby who had just been born to the butcher's servant across the alley, the maid Isobella who trailed behind, beaming. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. It rained heavily all day, so he did not stir forth.
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