My late husband, I mean. ‘Why, that’s it. ’ 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. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. “Does it hurt?” Michelle asked.
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