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. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. ‘Some ineligible that your parents would not tolerate, I suppose. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern.
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