Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. ’ 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. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. The first of these, whom he addressed as Mr. I'll test him out later; see if there is any craving. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. But I am afraid I am a shockingly obstinate and a very ungrateful person. ” A spot of colour flared in Anna’s cheek as she glanced towards the speaker.
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