’ 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. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. I'll bet you haven't given her a bucket of paint in three years. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders.
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