But she must not laugh. ’ ‘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. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. " "Zounds!" exclaimed Wood; "it's my old master-key. It fell with a clatter to the floor. He sat before a desk littered all over with papers and official looking documents.
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