Laugh on the wrong side of your mouth, now. Annabel thought, and thought again. ’ ‘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. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. You can tell me the rest another time. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought.
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