’ ‘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. When she finally did take her own lover, it was not with a member of the household staff. ” Michelle opened the door. “But about last night. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. She looked at him gravely and squinted. ‘Dare I guess at the reason for your sudden interest in émigrés, Gerald?’ ‘Lucilla,’ barked Hilary warningly. “I cannot part with you. She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. The Night-Cellar. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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