. 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. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. There isn’t. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. ’ ‘But there is still Remenham House. " "What a life!" "No worse than yours. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire.
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