Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. ’ ‘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. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. Small, but eminently serviceable.
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