’ 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. ‘Lucy, do not say that you have told everyone all that I have done?’ ‘Well, yes, but—’ Consternation filled Melusine’s breast. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. Well, you shall know. On this second excursion, forewarned, she would use no light and keep as quiet as a mouse, she vowed, and thus refrain from attracting the attention of the militia at the gates.
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