"My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Lucy thought of a song that she had not been able to get out of her head since the Fifties. It was nothing like the big church wedding she wanted, but nothing could shame her greater than to have a child out of wedlock.
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