"Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. She felt his crotch through his jeans. "Your worry is needless. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. When he had finishing feeding and burping, Isobella asked her, “Would you like to hold him?” Lucia nodded yes eagerly. "I was just thinking of you Jack. It would make my wife very happy. At least—’ ‘Don’t be more of a lunatic than you can help,’ broke in the captain, addressing himself to Melusine.
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