. ’ ‘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. “Of course it is okay!” Cathy’s voice rose in volume and in pitch. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out.
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