She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. F. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. ’ 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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