\" He looked crestfallen. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle. 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. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend. She’s got a great imagination. Lucy followed.
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