Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. Both had lived rather quietly until a scandal had opened up a can of worms for the son, allegations of child abduction, reported sightings of a white van around nearby elementary schools. “That sounds interesting. I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself. 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 expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. And stony broke. “No, you weren’t bad in the slightest. "It won't do to betray the officer," he muttered. Time after time he reminded her of how powerless she would be without him, how unkind the world was towards single women.
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