" "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Out of an old family album: here was the very comparison that had eluded him. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. ‘Don’t tell me. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said. ’ 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 wrote it down.
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