“I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. 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. " "You don't remember your mother?" "Oh, no; she died when I was very little. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. ‘Very wise,’ he commented, slightly relaxing his arm.
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