He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. ’ ‘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 his lips were honourlocked.
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