That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. " "Heaven help her!" sighed Jack. ’ ‘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. Melusine, used to the stark surroundings of the convent at Blaye, had no complaint to make. “I must read him when I come out. And do you, Jack, attend to your work, and mind you don't get into further mischief. “Boys!” said Capes. There was—a service.
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