He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. Wood. 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.
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