” The change in Lady Ferringhall’s manner was subtle but unmistakable. He walked hastily to the side of the broad pavement and summoned a fiacre. ’ ‘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. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square.
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