’
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. Wood, at the top of her voice. And if he
didn’t, what was the good of seeing him?
“I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend. He was a young man of
about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress
or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable
expression of cunning pervading his countenance. "
"Yes, yer hon'r," replied the chairman, taking the note. "
"Professional?"
"Why do you wish to know?"
"Professional nurses wear a sort of uniform. It wasn’t clear to
me that I had to explain.
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