“It’s a terrible letter,” Nicola said. “Ashbury wrote it. Never trust a man to write about babies.” “No descriptions whatsoever.” Penny sighed. “How are we to know what he looks like? Which of his parents does he favor? What about his temperament?” “He’s probably pink, wrinkly, bald, and hungry, like all newborn babes. I doubt he’s had time to declare a political affiliation.”
