D. His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. “They all catch on,” she said. Furiously, she dashed his hands away. You had better let me go again. 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. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard.
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