’ ‘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. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. " "That's reasonable. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Was this the result of some strange experiment? It was the person of Annabel Pellissier—the soul of a very different order of being. ’ Captain Roding stared at her, his jaw dropping, while Lucilla hastily turned away, although Melusine caught the laughter in her face.
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