She let Jack go as he passed through the opening. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. ’ ‘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 was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before.
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