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I wasn’t. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband. ’ 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.
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