Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. ’ ‘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. When she reflected that Mr. I thought Mr.
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