I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. 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. We have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. . Their faces had bite marks that were hers. But anything is better than this.
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