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. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. The skies became brilliant; the dry monsoon was setting in. And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill. " "No. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses.
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