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. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. She would not forgive me. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand.
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