" "You may spare me your compassion, friend," observed Thames; "I am falsely detained. It is attested, you will observe, by the Reverend Mr. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. It wasn’t. 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. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon.
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