‘Quick, Gérard. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. 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. Before Jonathan followed he turned to face his assailants. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again.
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