’ ‘I do not care any more about the portrait,’ Melusine said, opening the door to the attic corridor that gave off onto the row of little rooms that served as private cells for the senior nuns. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. ’ ‘A life of ease?’ repeated Melusine. Rollo began to cavort. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. ’ ‘Not until you release that dagger.
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