I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. " "Your own was equally so," said Jackson ironically. 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. " "For me!" vociferated Mrs.
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