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. More,’ he said, ‘but I’m told it’s the most amusing thing in London at the present time. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty.
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