’ 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. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her. "My mother is avenged. You mustn’t do things like that. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. Woof! What a dog. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail.
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