‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. ’ ‘His daughter, ma’am?’ Gerald asked. Funny how all but the most cunning and promiscuous teenage girls never caught on, not in 1400, certainly not now. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. Although she had said a great deal when she heard about the shooting that had left poor Jack so badly injured. The man was 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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