‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. "You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. 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. E.
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