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. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. I spent this afternoon in detention. It’s no good hiding it any more. " "And I will, if I can, depend upon it," answered Sheppard, with a laugh. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters.
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