F. Marina doted over her pregnant daughter, adorned in fine brocades, reassuring her that it was certain to be a either a baby boy or a girl of such great beauty she would eclipse them both. Heaven forbid. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. Lucy finished Michelle off, leaving only a dry, unrecognizable husk. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely.
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