I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. ‘In that case, he is probably already dead, and you have nothing to worry about. ’ ‘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. I may add that the family is well known to me. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said.
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