It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. 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. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. The house became joyous again with the talk of babies and wedding festivities. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded.
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