Though they do, in secret, I believe. Niente. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief. ’ ‘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. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales.
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