The baby boy wriggles in Henry Bright’s arms. He holds a knife over a candle to sterilize it before cutting the umbilical cord and then wipes the baby clean with a damp shirt before laying him in a basket near the fire. He stands at the foot of the bed and stares at his wife’s face before leaning over and listening for the slightest breath from her lips. He finally straightens and the child begins to cry; Bright looks at the boy in the glow of slowly dying fire.
Bright paces the floor and bites his knuckle, finally picking the baby up from the basket and lifting the heavy flap...
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