’ 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. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it.
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