Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. ’ ‘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. When she entered the office a strange scene was presented to her startled gaze. She removed it. She stepped backwards. She remembered possessing it during the Gold Rush.
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