He flew to the window, and would have passed his sword through the thief-taker's body, if the latter had not quickly interposed the person of Mrs. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Lucy entered the room. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. 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. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes.
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