"I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. ” “We’ve come past it, miss,” the man answered, with a note of finality in his gruff voice. . Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. She laughed a little contemptuously. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. 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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