S. ’ ‘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. I don’t think any surroundings could throw a shadow on you. I worshipped her and subdued myself. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess.
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