Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. "Yes; he'll suspect nothing. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. .
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