’ Chapter Nine As she devoured the simple meal of bread and cheese, and several slices of cold roast beef, the whole washed down with a poor sort of coffee, Melusine listened with avid interest to the details of her mother’s life as revealed by the exclamatory conversation of Joan Ibstock. Shocked, Melusine shot out of that blanketing warmth of sensation. It needs cultivating, I think. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. There was—a service. Life waits for us.
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