’ ‘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 I do not love you. Mac's. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. God, Lucy, that’s the stuff people wear to Phys. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers.
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