I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. Strangers look in and long, and neighbours are moved to envy. People of your sort—I don’t want the instincts to—to rush our situation. ’ ‘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. ‘But lay him down. You’ll never see the light of day as long as you live. Wood. It's only right that his people should know where he is and what has happened to him. ” She laid her fingers upon his arm, and they both stood still.
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