‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood. ’ 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. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. I’ve made an ally of her champion. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. At least I can give you a glimmer. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber.
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