’ 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. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. Lucy followed her.
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