"I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. ‘And I’ll say it as often as I choose, you confounded impertinent wench! Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m your grandfather, girl. ” A momentary bitterness crept into Anna’s tone. My father died a year ago, by the way. "No matter. 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.
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