She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. ’ ‘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. You see I am rather obstinate. ’ There was sense in what she said, Melusine was obliged to concede. The lad had just barely jangled it, when hurrying footsteps could be heard inside. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. Together they crept through the erstwhile drawing room and entered the massive flagged hall.
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