" Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. “My charm of manner, I suppose. 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. No mercenary consideration influences me. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him.
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