’ 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. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. He stuck to the shop as long as it was necessary, and longer, in my opinion. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience.
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