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| "He's served many an ale in this establishment. This pub was named after him!" |

| "And the baby you are talkin' about," the stranger said, leaning his face closer to Crispin's, to draw his undivided attention. "You say they're adoptin' the baby?" |

| "That's right," Crispin said, setting his mug down on the counter for a refill. "And it's been a long enough wait for them. A whole damn year. They waited a whole damn year." |

| "And why is that?" the stranger asked, casting the man in the wheelchair another quick glance. |

| "Because they wanted to be fair about it," Crispin said, slapping a coin on the counter for the ale, then smiling a thank-you to the stranger as he slipped his coin out ahead of Crispin's to pay for the drink. |

| "Fair?" the stranger asked, placing the mug of ale in Crispin's hand for him. "What was there to play fair about?" |

| Crispin gulped down another swallow of ale. He set the mug down and wiped his mouth clean with the back of a hand. "It was because of Bianca Whitelaw," he explained. "It's her child. They tried to find her to be sure she didn't want it. They looked but they couldn't find her." |

| Feeling good and carefree, Crispin lifted his mug again and waved it in the air, slopping ale over its sides. "If there is a father for Bianca's child, step forward or forever hold your peace!" he shouted drunkenly, laughing as he again took another quick drink. |

| When he had somewhat regained his composure, he looked for the stranger but was stupified to find that he had suddenly disappeared. |

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