It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. According to what I’ve heard, you oughtn’t to be here. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. “Bother it all!” she swore. Her hair got loose, her hat came over one eye, and she had no arm free to replace it. 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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