Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. David Courtlaw. “Dear me!” he said. 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. “Very good,” he said. . He must have married when he was quite a young man.
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