You go to your room and ring for your maid. Wood, "it may be poisoned. ’ ‘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. Tears began to stream from her cheeks. I fancy that Sir John does not approve of me. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued.
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