She pointed. Better to remain silent. How did you get into this house?’ He shrugged. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. Wants me to look out for you a bit. Just my room. ’ ‘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.
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