And put ‘em in little books for remembrance. Our ideal had fallen. She went to market every day to fetch the daily bread and more herbs for more medicines and potions, plus treats for the apprentices made of honey and almond paste. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death. ‘And all to help me.
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