"Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. They had refused. Don't worry about me. For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. Take it, I tell you. Old saltwater was right. ’ ‘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.
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