’ 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. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. When she finished her last cadence, Carolyn and Thomas begged her to play encores. Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. ’ ‘Of what use to be ladylike when I cannot be a lady?’ ‘None of that. “Indeed, no,” he answered. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. Wood among them?" asked Jack, eagerly. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed.
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