’ 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. For some seconds of voluminous thinking they looked at the ring between them, and neither spoke. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. “I don’t believe there is one.
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