"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. 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 remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. We tolerate you for your genius, that's a fact. I thought about how insensitive my behavior was and even though I don’t think that I was being antiSemitic on purpose, I can see how dumb I was being.
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